ISSUE 15 Summer 2019
B EATS recog n i zes t h e U nce ded C o ast S alis h Te rrito ries o f Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh Nations.
Editor’s Note
Golsa Golestaneh
Hello and welcome to Issue 15!!! I cannot believe we have gotten this far already! This issue is filled with so many different stories, many things about the editors’ hometowns and so many other things from politics to friendship and happiness. It’s a very vibrant issue and we all hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed making it! I would like to thank Jennifer Sarkar for starting BEATS and trusting me with this work. And many thanks to our funders at Telus Friendly Future Foundation for supporting another issue of BEATS!
Love BC LOVE is a youth-driven media arts-based non-profit organization that facilitates violence prevention and intervention programming to youth who face multiple barriers. LOVE youth use media arts to document their experiences, share their views of the world, and build leadership skills to break the cycle of violence in their lives and communities. To learn more about LOVE BC’s work please go to: loveorganization.ca or email us at: info-bc@loveorganization.ca
Editorial Team Aritro Mukhopadhyay
Ari is a junior designer, a visual story teller and an artist at heart. He wishes to experience as much as the world has to offer so that he can weave stories that engross readers. He’s a local of Silvassa, Jakarta and Vancouver.
Janelle Huinda
Janelle immigrated to Canada from the Philippines at the age of 11. She is currently studying to become a psychiatric nurse in hope to aid youth suffering from mental illness.
Jackie Obungah
Tenzin Phantok
Tenzin is originally from Tibet but was born in Jackie is a Black African India. femme living and She did all her education working on unceded there and came to Canada Coast Salish territories on 30 September 2015. for the past 3 years. She loves dancing and She is passionate singing, she’s currently about decolonization, enrolled in college literature, writing, studying to become a care mangoes and aid. And she also loves complaining. On learning about different weekends you can find cultures. her sitting in dimly lit corners of small bookstores reading African poetry and listening to zilizopendwa on low volume.
Table of Contents The Everyday Friend Tibet - I’m Coming Home Lost Breathe Slow Lakeside Ghosts A Guide on How to be a Cattle Vigilante in India Girls’ Education What Makes You Happy? Home, Bittersweet Home
The Everyday Friend Photo and Writing by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay In your cusps I have survived, In your hearth I have reclined. You have been trampled by many Still, you care for privacy? Betwixt twists and twirls I have only felt a soothing nudge, Amid the raging storm I have only felt your omnipresent touch. Among the many millions Who have walked over you You have preserved their dust. You are the guardian of their destiny But who is the protector of yours. You let me gaze through Wild suburban trash, You’ve always incubated me When times were rash. Now that you are away Sour winds freely sway. The sanctum lies in ruin Full of filth and vermin. The company that you so oblige for It’s not the hearth that I once sought for. Self selfless selfish sold. This is the truth, lord behold. The speed at which my life passes, It’s almost terrifying, my heart gushes. I am afraid of the never ending tracks; The unhinged nature of desirable danger As we both head home from an ominous venture
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Tibet - “I Am Coming Home” Photo and Writing by:
Tenzin Phantok
First I wanna start by asking you people reading this a few questions: Have you ever heard of Tibet? Where it is located? What do Tibet people speak? What is our traditional food or traditional Dress? If you knew or know then give yourself an pat cause I am not kidding when I say that not many people know about TIbet even tho its 2019 people still tends to be blind to the fact that any place called Tibet exist but incase you don’t then I would judge if you ever read geography... (I am just joking, I didn’t even study about my own place so don’t worry won’t blame you) so if you don’t then promise you by the end of my article you will. And hope you can share with others too(or you can ask your friends the same questions and this time you will be in the position to answer them all..) Ok!! Hold your seats tight, just relax and keep on reading! My name is Tenzin Phantok, my origin is Tibet but and I was born in India(that is always how I introduce myself) and fun facts about me I know five languages(test me if you want)..we are a family of six with two sister a brother and Ama and Appa( thats how we call mom and dad in Tibetan) myself being the youngest child and no I don’t get any sort of special treatment. And its a story of me my family and all the other fellow Tibetan. I like dancing, singing(mostly bathroom singer), love reading and drawing And I was not born there cause its no longer a free country and my grandparents were a refugee who fled from there and found shelter
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in India for which I will forever be grateful. Let me start by giving you some wikipedia facts about tibet: Tibetan:བོད་, covering much of the Tibetan Plateau in Inner Asia. It is the traditional homeland of the Tibetan people as well as some other ethnic groups such as Monpa, Tamang, Qiang, Sherpa, and Lhoba peoples and is now also inhabited by considerable numbers of Han Chinese and Hui people. Tibet is the highest region on Earth, with an average elevation of 5,000 metres (16,000 ft).[1] The highest elevation in Tibet is Mount Everest, Earth’s highest mountain, rising 8,848 m (29,029 ft) above sea level and is also known as “Roof Of The World”. Ok done with the wikipedia! To be honest with you all I have actually never been around my own culture since I was a kid for I went to international school and was around groups of different culture. But when ever I come home for my vacation mom made sure that I study about tibet and practise compassion for thats our main motto. While in school with different culture I was always confused as a Chinese background for kids at my school did not know anything about tibet and at first I would break my heart but later I understood that its not there fault cause in geography class tibet was never a part of the book. And not many people talk about tibet much. Even now I sometimes get asked
as to where I am from and when I tell them Tibet they would ask “is it in India” “oh you are Nepali” “where is it” “what language do you speak”. Yes it breaks my heart every-Time I hear this sort of question but also it makes me want to speak more about where I am from also one of the reason why I am writing this so next time when I say I am from tibet I would get an answers back instead of questions. Tibet consist of beautiful and different cultures. We have different language which I am not very good at but still learning and we have our own traditional food- Momo(dumpling which my mom makes the best in the whole entire world.), we have salt and butter tea I know it might sound weird to take in “what salt and butter in tea, are you crazy” nope you read it right salt and butter tea( let me know if you want to try, mom would be more then happy to offer you) which brings me to my next that is our religion and my religion is Buddhism.
dress called “Chupa”. Doesn’t she look so pretty… Tibet is so much more than just a country with lots of sufferings, yes we are not a free country yet and we still have a long way to go but I am never going to lose hope and maybe someday one day I will get to go back to my own country to the country that I should have been born and the country that my kids and grandkids should be born too and to the country were we all Tibetan belong. Lastly I hope you got to learn a little more about tibet and hoping you share it with your friends and family. If you want to learn more you can go to “tibet.net”.. “Bhoe gyalo”
We Tibetan people like to dance have fun and make the most out of our time, we enjoy peoples company. We follow compassion taught to us by our great mentor His holiness “The Dalai Lama” who has one of my and fellow Tibetans inspiration. We also have our own traditional dress which is so vibrant in colour and every-time I see people wearing it makes me very emotional. Below is the picture of my mom wearing our traditional
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Lost
Writings by:
Janelle Huinda
A few months ago, I was asked if I wanted to go home for a vacation and I said no right away. It fathoms me why I said no easily at that time, perhaps maybe it was the idea that I was able to have absolute freedom while my parents were away. However, as time passes by and seeing pictures of home and facetiming everyone, I was very much homesick. The tropical weather, abundance of fruits and snacks brings back so many memories back when I was a kid. I remember growing up, I was so attached to the beach. Our house was only a 10-minute walk from the beach, therefore, I would swim every morning at 6 am and my dad had to yank me out from the beach or else I’d get sunburned. I miss being surrounded by so many cousins and never be alone. Homesick I was because I haven’t been home in so long and I was longing for my
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Photo by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay
grandparents’ love. I guess I am too caught up with my new life here and being surrounded by a different culture. I’m too involved with the club scene, going out every weekend and wasting so much money for a night’s happiness. I wanted to stay here because I wanted to party as much as I could without parental guidance. Even though I was able to “live my life” when my parents were back home, I wasn’t fulfilled. I was longing to be back home and be with everyone. Back then, it didn’t matter whether we had a lot of money. At the end of the day, what mattered was we had food in the table, a house to live and everyone and I honestly, I miss being truly happy.
Breathe Slow Take things slow
You’re too focused on the future
Sit back and enjoy life
You forget to wonder and be open
You’re young
Playing it safe was the only way for you
19 years young
But
There’s still so much to see
Again
People to meet
You’re 19 years young
Opportunities to seize
Sit back and enjoy life
Yet you worry like no there is no end
Be open to endless possibilities
Constantly asking yourself
Stop playing it safe
“Am I doing the best I can?”
- what I try to remind myself every single day
“Is this enough?” Well, what is enough?
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“Lakeside Ghosts�
Written by:
I must say that the lake in many Niltoic communities is heralded as a feminine symbol. One that signifies critical transitions of life, death where we cease to exist in the flesh and return to spirit form. Birth, where we rehome our spirits’ selves into flesh and begin to be of the world. In this piece, the persona is not at peace so they seek refuge by the lake. The lake is our beginning and our ending for we River-Lake nilotes. Whatever we seek we will find there. The lake, we must never forget has a reflective power, forcing us to look inwards, deflecting the blinding nyanza sun to burn your insides until you told it all the truth. Nothing but the truth. The piece is written is translated - English is bending to the will of vernacular here, engage accordingly. Recently the ghosts have started to haunt me,frankly I am livid they did not come sooner. A decade is too long a time to wait. I can already tell what he wants, I must visit the lake, perhaps if I can see it from their point of view. Maybe when I close my eyes and feel the prickly sand beneath my feet, open them again and look into the horizon while struggling to ignore the devilish hyacinth on its colonial run, I will see what they demand of me. Listen, I am not a fun of making people restless, even those that do not exist with us in physical form. So if they want me to visit the lake, then I will, I must.
Jackie Obungah
But he must know one thing, once they are done making his demands then I must make mine. This tit for tat business, is what I am all about. Okay now I am at the lake, I am sitting on the sand, the beach is in front of me, the air is heavy, fresh, not exhausting and salty like the ocean. The lake does not exist to overwhelm, when you look out at it, you want to take a canoe and paddle beyond the horizon and come back again. So I am seated here by the lake, and it smells like fish, the people are loud and they do not look at me. No one even steals a quick glance. The footsteps are quiet I can feel them next to me. It is them, they are here, next to me, by the lake. I am on my back, I turn to face them. I can see them now, they are here. But all their faces are the sun, when I look at them, my eyes, they burn. I shield my eyes, I look again. Blinding, this time I close my eyes. I get up and open eyes, blinded again. I can see them close, so I reach out for them. Nothing, I am grasping fistfuls of air and I am by the lake. I am wailing now, hugging air, closed eyes and tears running. They are here, I cannot see them, because they are the sun and they hurts my eyes, I cannot touch them because they are the air, intangible. Why did they ask me to come to the Lake then?
Photo by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay
A guide on how to be a cattle vigilante in India. Follow these steps and you too can become a religious fanatic. Written by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay Since the lynching of Mohd Akhlaq in September 2015 in Dadri, there have been more than 35 lynchings related to cattle vigilantism in 11 states across India. These lynchings have been heinously carried out against muslims by “Gau Rakshaks” (Cow protectors) in the name of the alleged protection of Hinduism and culture. These cow vigilantes claim that cow rearing is against their belief and the Hindu religion, which is nothing but incoherent blabber in my opinion. How does a human rights violation so severe and basic get overlooked in the world’s most turbulent and largest democracy? And why does mob justice takes precedence over law? This is a sorry excuse for right wing nationalists (Hindu nationalist) in India to promote the idea of “Ghar wapsi” (Returning home). Right wing parties like RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh), Bajrang Dal and BJP (Bhartiya Janta Party) which happens to be the ruling party in India believe that India was always “pure and Hindu” before the Sultanate and the Mughal rule over India. Hence, they carry out public lynchings of people who follow a different faith which has even resulted in death - Rakbar Khan killed in July 2018, Ummar Khan shot dead in Nov 2017 and Pehlu Khan lynched in public view in April 2017. These fanatics want total Hindu dominance in India - a totalitarian regime. While uniting people in the name of religion towards a common enemy (the British) may have been successful
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tool before independence, it was a alas a double edged sword. So how exactly does this network of trigger happy fanatics operate? Social networking. WhatsApp. This is nothing short of a plot from a black mirror episode wherein technology is being used to dehumanize and stifle. There are hundreds rather thousands of such WhatsApp groups relating to cow protection that regularly circulate information, share propaganda videos, share viral videos of Muslims being attacked, a very own dystopian thought police. The cow vigilantes have no legal authority to stop, search or harass someone on any grounds. The police in certain districts have a nexus of cow vigilantes, informers and are complicit of the heinous crimes committed. This legitimizes the cow vigilantes to act on their own will and ensures their impunity. Due to this shield of impunity, these cow vigilantes grow more and more audacious and carry out their sense of judgement like a parallel government. Although shown as “in the heat of the moment”, mob lynchings are nothing but organized crime. These acts of organized crimes are used as models to carry out similar acts of dehumanization in different parts and states of India. These vigilantes are then celebrated, congratulated and even promoted to become electoral candidates for their supposed acts of “Bravery” when in comes to cow vigilantism. So much for democracy and giving power to the people.
Photo by: Ashwini Chaudhary
Islam was introduced in India in the 7th century through Arab traders. It gradually grew into popularity through the Delhi Sultanate (Sultans Kings) in the 12th century. This was further spread out wide when the Mughal hold grew stronger in India. Under these regimes many people were forced to change their religion although at the same time many willingly converted to Islam. History took its course and British colonization began in India. During this time many were forced to convert to Christianity, some did out of fear, at times through matrimonial alliances, through bribes and in search of a better living or by their own will. However, after more than seventy years
of independence and freedom, people now have the right to choose whatever religion they want to follow and many have grown into the religion their forefathers once had been forced to convert into. Even though this debate involves the concepts of reconciliation and reclamation it doesn’t give a specific dominant group the right to enforce their ideologies on other minorities. This is them mimicking the actions of their once colonial oppressors.
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Girls’ Education Written by:
Tenzin Phantok
The reason why I am writing about girls education is cause of a story that my mom told me. Being from a middle class family my parents never let this status come in the way of our education, I did my diploma in computer engineering, both of my sister are very well educated one is a nurse other a beautician and my brother is an ex-army. My parents also supported us to do what we wanted to and never once told us that they can’t afford or they won’t and the story that my mom told us is-she was sending money to my sister fee for college and she asked for one of my aunt to help her and my aunt replied by saying “why are you educating your girls that much, there is no use, for later future they have to get married and stay home do household”. While I was talking to my friend who was born here and I asked her “what do you think about girls educations and she replied “i actually have never thought about it cause that wasn’t an issue here and that she feel sorry where its happening” That made me realize how important it is to promote girls education for people need to know girls in some country are still raised without education and some are even forced to marry at a very young age and become a mother which is heartbreaking. I have a small poem that I wanna shareI was waiting for the day to be born I had so much dreams and so much hope Was waiting to see mom and dad be happy Cause I know when I am born I will make them PROUD AND HAPPY I can hear them say they are very happy I can hear them say they are waiting for me Then I see Mom reads a book She reads stories about girls who are brave She reads about women who are lead by example Oh I am happy its the date I see the light
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Its the day I see mom and dad It will be the start of my journey to conquer the world And read the stories that mom didn’t complete I am out in the world and I see mom She is crying happy tears and I wait for dad to hold I don’t see him but guess he is out to bring the books Books that I want to read when I get older Old enough now I tell my dad I can read The books that mom did not complete He gives me chocolate and made me leave I tell my mom I want to read the part she didn’t complete She asks me do you how to cook and clean ? And I answer I want to read She asks me do you know how to wash clothes? And I answer I want to read She asks if I know how to take care of household And I answer I want to read She says reading is not what you will do Come help me in the kitchen so you can learn how to cook And I still answer I WANT TO READ!! Education is a human right. It should be something we should share. No girls education should be taken away from them Lastly all I want to say is being a girl myself I can imagine how would I feel if I had no education and if I didn’t know how to read and write, I would really feel like I am missing a piece inside of me. I just want you beautiful people reading this to just close your eyes and imagine someone saying to you that you won’t be able to read and write anymore, how would you feel? and how would you react? Would you find some ways to do so?
Photo by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay
I have come to realize that making a deep and meaningful connection with others makes me a lot happier than I ever gave credit for. A few good friends are all I need to feel happy and fulfilled about my life.
Eating
Art, cats, fur, a clean kitchen, old and antique cameras, libraries, book shelves full of books old and new, beaches and a thorough catharsis.
Going out in the nature
Literature- allows me to transport myself and exist in multiple realms at the same time.
Dancing and singing.
What Makes You Happy? Spending time with mom and dad
Listening to music
Quilting - a new hobby of my mine! It makes me happy because I get to repurpose all the memories of my different clothes and into one large one !
Colours!
The sun - being outside when it’s warm and sunny makes me feel like I am home. It also makes me nostalgic and reminiscent of my childhood
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Photo by:
Golsa Golestaneh
Cyborgs, Jezebels, Missy Elliot and other stories... Writings by: Jckie
Obungah
Photo by: Aritro Mukhopadhyay
Afrofuturism for me began with the supa dupa fly video. That Missy fish eye lens! That trash bag! That lipstick! Lawd have mercy. Representations of black female femininity as a futuristic reality free from the male gaze, the colonial gaze, the white gaze. Missy Elliot’s contribution to hip-hop culture and imagery is understated my friends, on this you must argue with your shadow, not me! Supa Dupa fly is cyborg redefined, the trash bag houses Missy like a cocoon some sort of bio fabric. In it, we are at her mercy, you cannot define what you cannot see so Missy takes control here, move out of her way! She challenges the robot aesthetic of futuristic portrayals of women and shows us how other bodies can create their own spaces to be seen in cyborg forms.
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Now we must move on and rebuke! the jezebel portrayal of black women in these videos. As If dark skinned and plus sized black women cannot reimagine themselves owning their bodies, profiting off their own sexuality and body image. Flash forward now, I in my 20s I’ve been the jezebel, I’ve been the cyborg and now I want to exist as something in between. Something selfcrafted, selfowned and self-directed. Afrofuturism allows me to reimagine my body squeezing into spaces it ideally can’t fit in, kind of like Missy and her trash bag style.
This piece is dedicated to the memory of all African teachers, scholars, musicians, poets, healers, witches, wizards, weather tellers, medicine men, farmers, traders, traditional leaders, activists and an endless plethora of the threads that have held and continue to hold African communities together at home and in the diaspora. “Kweli lilipowatoma, kama dasiuri yake Wao wakaona vyema, afadhali wanishike Wanishike hima hima, hima ndani waniweke Ngomeni n’adhibibike, nijute kusema” - Abdilatif Abdallah; N’shishiyelo ni lilo I am compelled to make space within this magazine to specifically recognize African story tellers who have paved the way for me to be here. I honor all traditions of storytelling that have survived and thrived past colonialism and even those decimated by it. I am the undeniable result of the tales that have been regurgitated from time immemorial, I am grateful for this. Thank you for putting your bodies on the line, of
not of your own will, so that the rest of us can lead different lives, know alternate realities and imagine limitless possibilities I must remember all their names, perhaps even all their faces. “Siwati n’shishiyelo, siwati kwani niwate? Siwati ni lilo hilo, ‘talishika kwa vyovyote Siwati ni mimi nalo, hapano au popote Hadi kaburini sote, mimi nalo tufukiwe” - Abdilatif Abdallah; Siwati //In memory of Binyavanga Wainaina { Safiri salama}\\
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Home, Bittersweet Home Written by:
Golsa Golestaneh
Two years ago, when I was an editorial team member for the nineth issue of BEATS, I wrote here that I’m going home, and that I will write about my experience when I’m back. As you might know, that never happened. Now that I’ve found two spare pages, I thought it is appropriate to actually put that promise into action. I left my hometown of Iran at the age of 15 and went back as a 20 year old adult. I stayed in Iran for two months, worked at a hostel (that I have in fact shared some pictures of on previous issues) on the weekends as a night shift staff, travelled to a bunch of cities and met all of my virtual friends in person. I travelled to the Northern part of Iran with a group of friends plus my cousin and lost my phone and all the photos right there. I travelled to the central/ southern parts on my own, rode on the back of a motorbike for about 12 hours, visiting every corner of Yazd, the ancient UNESCO Heritage city. Imagine the bikes on the covers, and imagine them as loud as a giant truck, so loud that the city would go quiet when you turned it off. People would naturally wonder how this guy in front of me had managed to find a girlfriend with that bike; I was apparently the girlfriend. Yazd is a religious city, and I may have been the only woman wearing really really bright colours, and floral patterns on the back of a bike which amazed the locals. Some people on other bikes would be kind enough to warn me about my wide pants getting stuck in the back wheel. Before going to Yazd I spent some days in Esfahan, a city in which I lived most years of my life in Iran, and while I enjoyed the many wonders and beauties of the place again, I found the excessive cat-calling and the “guidance” patrols’ continuous warnings about my Hejab kind of exhausting. Now, this is not a Yelp review, it’s my unfiltered narrative as a solo female traveller (who was
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always accompanied by at least one person but would be bothered if that person wasn’t a guy), and a non-European one. I did clap back at the police and ignore the men and managed to enjoy my stay in Esfahan with family and friends. I left Yazd at midnight on an old bus, the only available bus, and got to Shiraz with a massive backache resulted by my motorbike and old bus adventures. I got to the Terminal and was supposed to find my friend there, but it was 6am and he was asleep. So I laid on the chairs of the terminal and slept for a bit (which still freaks my mom out whenever we talk about it), and then got a taxi and went to the tomb of Hafez (photo on page 19), a famous Persian poet. I wandered around on my own, visited Hafez, grabbed many water bottles from the big flower pots and threw them in trash, walked in the gardens and laid down on the grass listening to music and thinking that this must be the best day of my life. It was. I had never felt so peaceful and so free all my life, I had never felt so at home in a place that I had only been a tourist in. I finally met my friend, who was another Facebook friend I had never met in person, and we got on the road in his dad’s car that he had borrowed to show me around. We went to Takhte Jamshid (Persepolis), one of the oldest if not the oldest historical sites in Iran which used to be the capital of the Achaemenid empire until the Greek invasion that destroyed most of the stone city (which you never read about in Western history textbooks as we are always the “barbarians” rather than the invaded). It wasn’t my first time in that place but I viewed it with a new sense of awe and appreciation, I looked at every detail, every little piece of information and admired it all. My friend had not been there in about 12 years, and he had only come now to show me around! We then proceeded to go to Passargad (tomb of Cyrus the Great, the first emperor of a united
Iran). My Shirazi friend who had lived in the city all his life, had never been to this place, it’s on the outskirts of the city, so it’s about an hour of driving at least; but he only came now that I wanted to visit! That’s some real hospitality right there! We returned to the city, visited the tomb of Saadi, another Persian poet and when he took me to the terminal I decided to stay in Shiraz for the night, because there was so much left to see! He dropped me off at a motel, a very cheap one, and the only one with an available room which allowed solo females in and I stayed there. It was the first time in my life to be in a room that was only mine, that wasn’t in my house, it was my first time being absolutely independent. And it was the best night of my life, a perfect ending to the best day. I had not brought anything other than a pair of clothing with me, so I showered with the hand soap, as it was a very cheap motel and didn’t have shampoos. Then I went to a very very peaceful sleep in the city centre with all its noise. Another friend of mine who I contacted at the motel, agreed to pick me up the next morning, and he showed me around all other places in town, some of which were not that famous but still amazing. I visited every spot, every single spot and loved every bit of it. My friend from the first day met me again and we spent some more time in the city before I headed back to Esfahan. My uncle and his children took me to the red village of Abyaaneh (front cover) and I went back to Tehran shortly after. The friends whom I travelled to the North with, some of the best friends in the world, were in Tehran and I spent the rest of my time in Iran with them and my family who live in a small town in Karaj. I spent many days and nights in my friend’s house with her family, and I had never met her in person before. She and her family would make sure to have vegetarian food for me, to let me sleep when migraine got me, to take
me shopping, or walking in the neighbourhood at night so that we could get some ice-cream (which was always what I wanted). Her brother sends me selfies of them at the ice-cream shop still. I did a workshop about refugees on World Refugee Day, and today that I’m writing this is also World Refugee Day! I had the chance to share my experiences as a refugee in my own country! And I was able to give an undocumented refugee a chance to share and clear many misconceptions about this identity. Although we wrapped my meant-to-be three hour workshop in about 45 minutes, I still felt so accomplished and fulfilled that I had never felt in my life before. My trip to Iran was the best experience of my life, the best thing I have ever done. I met the most wonderful people, made so many friends (which was surprising as I’m an introvert, but Iranians don’t care!) and made some great memories, even if they were painful and filled with tears, even if I had to sob at the airport, even though it was like I died when I left. Like I died again. I enjoyed every bit of it, I finally belonged to a place, I heard Farsi and could understand people’s jokes, and make jokes of my own. I went to Iran at a time that I felt like my survival depended on it. At a time that I kept facing white-supremacists and went through things no one would enjoy. I went back because I wanted to maintain my sanity and I think going back helped me realize so many of my self-doubts, so many things I had started to dislike about myself because the Western society told me to, so many aspects of my identity were actually okay or non-existent. I don’t know how I should end this story, so I just share this translation of the Persian poem by Rumi: “Your heart knows the way, run in that direction”.
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE CONTRIBUTORS OF BEATS: NEWCOMER YOUTH VOICE + PERSPECTIVE